Some Kind of Support
by lovablegeek
Summary: Collins and Benny go out to get a drink after Angel's funeral. [One shot]


"Let's pay him off and then get drunk."

Mark glanced from Collins to Benny and gave a helpless shrug. "I can't, I have a meeting…"

Benny gave Mark a light shove, not unfriendly, more like the way he would have when they were still friends. None of them, it seemed, could bring themselves to keep up the rivalry that had persisted for the past ten months. "Punk," he muttered, noting with a faint smile that Collins had said the same thing. Benny slung his arm around Collins' shoulders as the two of them walked out of the cemetery. He squeezed Collins' shoulder lightly, and Collins turned his head a little to give him a weak smile. He was still holding those drumsticks, hadn't set them down, still crying or almost crying or somewhere in between the two, and Benny couldn't blame him.

"Are you okay?" Benny asked cautiously. He knew it was a dumb question, but what else could he say?

Rather than comment on the pointlessness of that question, Collins looked at Benny and sighed, a tear running down his cheek. He took a deep breath and said, "Am I supposed to be?"

Benny considered that for a moment, and then shook his head at last, giving Collins a wry smile. "No. I think I'd be concerned if you were." He tightened his grip a little on Collins' shoulder, trying somehow to provide some kind of support, some kind of encouragement. "Come on, let's go get you that drink."

* * *

Benny rolled his eyes a little as Collins stumbled, wrapping his arm a little tighter around his friends' midsection to keep him from falling. It had been a long time since he'd gone out drinking with Collins, since he'd had a chance to spend time with_any_ of his friends. Former friends. Whatever. Then again, it had been a long time since any of them_ wanted_to spend time with him. And here it had taken a death and a funeral to get them back to this point.

"You are… really drunk," Benny commented as they reached the stairs to Collins' apartment. He glanced over a this friend, eyebrows raised, and Collins smiled at him, a crooked and almost self-deprecating smile.

"Wasn't that the point?" he asked. Trust Collins to respond like that, to have a smartass remark at the ready and retain enough apparent mental clarity to direct Benny to his home… and yet still be unable to walk in a straight line.

"Yeah, that was the point," Benny said, unable to stop the faint smile that crept over his face. "I wasn't exactly planning on you getting so trashed that I'd have to walk you home. You know I'm going to catch shit for this when I get home."

Collins leaned a little more on Benny as they ascended the stairs, and Benny shifted his arm again to support a bit more of his weight. "Alison?"

Benny snorted. "Yeah, Alison. My wife. You remember her? You were at our wedding… God, she's going to be pissed I didn't call, or tell her where—"

"Here," Collins said abruptly, cutting Benny off. Benny fell silent and blinked in confusion before he realized they were standing in front of a door that must be Collins apartment. "And Benny? Alison's _always _pissed at you."

Benny didn't answer, and for a moment couldn't meet Collins' eyes. He knew everyone's opinion of Alison, and never bothered to argue with them about it outside of the most half-hearted protests. The worst part of it, what he felt most guilty about, was that sometimes he almost agreed with them.

When he glanced up again, Collins was still watching him. Benny never would understand how Collins could be completely trashed and still look as calm and bright as he always did, like there were the secrets of the universe there behind those frank brown eyes. Benny also knew, of course, that that was a load of crap, that however intelligent Collins was, he held no universal truths, that he was only a little wiser than the rest of them… but damn, he looked it.

"If Alison's gonna blow up when you go home… why go home?"

"What, are you crazy on top of being drunk? I have to go home—where else am I going to go?"

"Stay here tonight," Collins suggested. Benny gave him an odd look and took a step away from him. Despite the fact that Collins hadn't been able to walk a straight line on his own, he managed to stand upright in front of the door without Benny's support.

"Oh, yes, that's a brilliant idea. Because not coming home at all is _just _the way to placate my wife."

"At least you won't have to deal with it today," Collins said with a slow smile, but meeting his eyes Benny saw something beyond the words and the smile, an almost pleading… _Don't leave me alone. Not here, not tonight._ Benny stood there, eyes fixed on his friend, the usual smile and the contrast of pain and pleading in his eyes, and at last sighed, stepping forward once more to wrap his arm around Collins' torso.

"Okay," he said quietly, as he reached out with his free hand to push open the door. "I'll stay tonight." Collins draped his arm across Benny's shoulders and leaned against him, Collins' side pressed to his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of his body through his own coat and Collins', the slight pressure of his arm, though he knew it wasn't the physical support Collins needed just then. But he did need him there, one way or another, and they both knew it, so Benny stayed to provide whatever small support he could.


End file.
